


Music and Biology

by Ectotoxic, horizontalhorizon



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Flirting, Fluff and Smut, I don't own these characters, Instruments, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Redemption, Slow Burn, Smut, flirty max, maxwil - Freeform, pinning, soft, they are owned by Klei
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:00:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25155106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ectotoxic/pseuds/Ectotoxic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/horizontalhorizon/pseuds/horizontalhorizon
Summary: Maxwell had seen many things in his long life, from the peculiarities of this world he had created, the odd creatures like the dragonfly, the tentacles in the swamps, the odd pig men, fish men, bunny men, even the new ones now that he wasn’t on the throne, the bearger, the bee queen. Even in the real world he had seen men in all their glory in big cities, hell he was one of them, thirsting for fame, money, and had seen it become the downfall to those men, as he did. He’d seen many ways to die, been on either side of the flip coin, killing or getting killed, he wasn’t sure whether it was the will of him or THEM when he did. He’s seen things no human should see on that throne, ancient civilizations rise and fall, the secrets of THEM and what they are, what the shadow creatures were. He thought he had seen it all, and done many things, but this, this takes the cake. But he honestly had to have seen it coming, sooner or later.
Relationships: Maxwell/Wilson (Don't Starve)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 83





	1. "Higgsbury"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always I am thankful for my co author horizontalhorizon

“Higgsbury.” 

….Yes?”

“What on earth are you doing in my tent?”

The smaller man had unceremoniously dipped into Maxwell’s tent, with a haggard and nervous look on his face as if he’d just committed a horrible crime. Wilson peeked out of the opening of the tent to ensure he wasn’t spotted and then closed it quickly. Maxwell looked on, feeling rather unimpressed and quite bothered, but not nearly as much as he would’ve expected.

Maxwell was sitting in his tent on his sleeping roll, a now closed Codex Umbra being tucked into his coat pocket, and a small fire by his feet that illuminated their faces starkly from below.

“W-well you see I just wanted to ask you something, and it’s been nagging me for a while, it’s nothing much really—” Maxwell rose an eyebrow, “Well, I mean maybe it is, it’s for scientific reasons—”

“At midnight?” Maxwell had tuned out the excuses at this point, “Pray tell why would you come into my tent—without asking I might add—and ask questions now when you can do it in the morning? Do I even want to know what has you so riled up?” Maxwell folded his arms.

Wilson fidgeted, but then built up his nerve, “I know for a fact you don’t sleep much and that you would be awake, which you were, so I’m not sure why you are complaining. It’s not like you were busy doing anything. Besides, the question I have is about the nightmare throne... and its effects on a person… physically.”

Maxwell was rather annoyed at this point. However, the man was right, he was awake and doing nothing. A small part of him was just bored, so he entertained him, “So why at this hour?”

He noticed Wilson’s cheeks colored a bit before he spoke, “W-well, I’d rather not have anyone eavesdrop in on what I’m about to ask… it’s… quite indecent.”

Oh, Maxwell thought, his mind went many ways at the implication, but he settled on a simple little quip to push the scientist to say what was on his mind, “If it brings anything into light, the throne has a tendency to amplify the wants and needs of that particular person on the throne. It can come in many forms, but the most likely one is unpleasant.”

Maxwell tipped his head back and studied Higgsbury as the smaller began to speak, “While I was on the throne… they gave me knowledge, power, and-and I saw myself. I was changing, and I still have some of those changes... animalistic tendencies, like snarling or growling when I’m angry or defensive. Even now, in fights I notice that my hands, th-they become like claws, and looking in the ponds and I’ve noticed my teeth have more canines,” he became more excited and wound up as he spoke, “It’s intriguing how one's body can be altered in a place like this, almost like forced evolution—”

“There is no evolution in what’s happening to you, pal. Not everything in this place can be explained through science. You were becoming a monster, something more familiar to Them, someone who can fit the throne,” Maxwell took off his gloves and showed his clawed hands, “The result of having been around nightmare fuel, especially on the throne, can warp anything from the fluffiest bunny to the brightest birchnut tree... into a monster.”

Maxwell felt this conversation was almost redundant, and frankly a little confusing. Wilson was an amateur scientist so surely he could find the energy within to discuss anything to death, but to explain this aspect of the throne to him given he was on it as well didn’t seem to make sense. However Maxwell also knew Wilson was on the throne such an inconsequential amount of time (only about three days) that it paled to the ramifications the fuel had on Maxwell. He who was on it...well, he wasn’t keeping track anymore, that’s for certain, to drive the point home.

Wilson looked at Maxwell with a face that did not sit well with him, “So... say hypothetically, what would happen if one… ingested nightmare fuel, or an animal that had eaten it?”

Wilson creeped a bit closer to where Maxwell was sitting in his tent, and he eyed the scientist cautiously as the larger man remained static where he sat, “Then you would slowly become insane. It is not something to be played around with— don’t give me that look, try it if you want but don’t come to me when terror beaks and crawlers are after you.”

Wilson has a rough history of tempting science at the expense of his sanity, so that is not necessarily new territory for him. Ignoring the comment about it, he pressed on, speaking quickly, “What if there was intercourse between said nightmare fuel-infected animals, as in, what would happen then?”

Maxwell blinked once, then twice, where did that question even— “You came to me to ask if sex is safe when you have this?” He raised his clawed hand and bared his sharp teeth in a sneer. It all made sense to him now, this was the ‘indecent’ part. Wilson’s face was a bright cherry compared to the beige of the tent walls. Further to his delight, the tiny man wasn’t even looking Maxwell in the eye anymore! It took everything within him not to completely lose it in laughter. “Someone in the camp caught your eye?”

Maxwell was no fool. This bashful little scientist came to him in the middle of the night to beat around the bush, and then continue his little roundabout with animal analogies? Is sex safe when you are influenced by nightmare fuel? Hell, Maxwell doesn’t know whether to laugh or scold him for wasting his time asking such a question. It’s not like STDs or erectile dysfunction came with being a king of the nightmare throne package. Frankly, his prick worked just fine.

“N-No! No one in particular! I was just curious! Thank you for the insight! Goodnight!” And with that the scientist scurried out of his tent as if there was an angry spider ready to strike instead of a very amused magician.

Maxwell waited a moment till Wilson was certainly gone, then sighed and laid down on his straw roll that he hardly ever used.

“Hm, so, can you still be capable of love even with such features?” Maxwell looked at his clawed hands in the light of his lamp, then extinguished the light. “Well. Why don’t we put that to the test?”

Maxwell had a rare and surprisingly restful sleep that night.


	2. “Did you do something to Maxwell?”

“Did you do something to Maxwell?” Wilson jumped when Willow spoke straight into his ear, for he had been working on a new invention and was too focused to hear her coming from behind.

“Erm, d-do something? Also please don’t startle me like that,” said Wilson, rolling his shoulders to relieve the tension that she’d placed there with her surprise. Willow shrugged and gave a light smirk.

“Sorry, Wilson, it’s just so fun watching you get startled. You can be a little too serious about all this science stuff, ya know? Aaaanyway, I noticed Maxwell has been staring at you quite a bit lately. Or, well actually I would say it’s a glare, but I don’t know? Somethin’ is different about it, that’s for sure.”

“Something different from his typical glare, you mean?” Wilson scoffed.

She walked over to be face to face with him, looked at him, then focused over his shoulder, “There! He’s at it again!” She cupped her mouth to stifle her giggling.

Wilson gave a questioning look at her before turning around to see what the fuss was about, and sure enough, Maxwell was eyeing him down. About 30 feet within the camp, leaning an elbow over a post, and staring right at him. As soon as they made eye contact Maxwell smirked and held up his gloved hand, wiggling the fingers in a little hello. Wilson tilted his head in confusion for a moment, then remembered the conversation they had a few days ago.

Ah damn it, Wilson thought, and flushed at the meaning behind the hand gesture. He quickly whipped his head back and mumbled something about being teased.

To say Maxwell was pleased with the reaction was an understatement. He was a little rusty at the whole chaff and seduction thing but that didn’t mean he didn’t remember. He watched as the little scientist turned back to his work and started talking to Willow again. Even from the distance he could see Wilson’s neck was flushed still, so he probably could feel his gaze on him still. Maxwell sauntered off and summoned some clones to “help” him do some work, cutting trees and mining boulders since everyone was busy rebuilding things around the camp.

Damn hounds. While he leaned a shoulder against the tree he wondered about the talk he and Wilson had a few nights prior. It was apparent the man was affection starved to some degree. Prior to the amateur being pulled into the Constant, he lived in a shack in the middle of the woods that he supposedly inherited from some distant relative. When Maxwell spoke through the radio, giving words of encouragement and praises to Wilson as he was working on the machine the man basically glowed and flushed under that attention.

Adorable, he thought back then, and... he still does now. Maxwell had come to terms with his feelings quite a time ago, and seeing Wilson in the flesh to then be freed by him of all people on the nightmare throne… it did things to his heart he hadn’t felt in what must have been a millennia to him. But it wasn’t, and he was here now. Lifting his head up he stared at the sky and felt the spring breeze. He had a little plan, to test the worries of Wilson’s, but he was too much of a gentleman with enough tact to not say, for example, “Hey pal, want to make whoopee and see how that fuel ignites the fire? Well, for science of course!”

No. And Maxwell wouldn’t consider himself much of a prude, but that’s not to say the man was a deviant either. He wouldn’t indulge in these ideas, this pursuit, if you will, if he did not think that Wilson might’ve felt something similar. There was just something there between them, that gave Maxwell some edge, some hope. So, he was going to make the other man ask for it himself. And no doubt it may take a while at that, but he knew they had all the time in the world. Maxwell considered himself upfront and honest to himself about his feelings, but he did not know how truly deep he was, and that soon there would be the tipping point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always thank my co creator horizontalhorizon for helping me out :)


	3. “Your being quite nice dear, why with the change of heart?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for the mishap! I didn't mean to post the same chapter, anyway this is the new one, enjoy :)) again thank my co author horizontalhorizon :)

“Your being quite nice dear, why with the change of heart?”

Wickerbottom gave a satisfying and heavy smile to Maxwell, who was putting some more salt in the stew. “If I may so ask,” she tacked on with her saccharine sweet tone.

She had not been the only survivor to have seen how Maxwell has changed over the course of a few days. It was quite the evolution from a dethroned, snarky older man to a child who had found a new toy, and Wickerbottom was worried as to what— or who— that said “toy” might be.

Maxwell stopped stirring the meat stew and hummed to himself, “If you must know, I have found a new little hobby for myself.”

“And what might that be, Maxwell?” 

“Getting to know my fellow camp members better, of course.”

Wickerbottom stared at him for a bit while chopping the carrots, and he began to whistle and turned his attention from her. There was an underlying tone behind what he said, she could feel it, and she hoped he wasn’t bullying any one of them, or god forbid hurt any of them.

As if he knew what she was thinking he was quick to add, “No one will be harmed from my curiosity, truly, and you can hold me to that. Really, dear Franny, do you think so little of me?” He put a mocked, offended hand over his chest and watched as she passively added the carrots and closed the lid to the crockpot.

“You sound like Wilson when he wants to try one of his new,” and she waved a hand around trying to find the correct word, “prototypes on someone, I think I should be a little worried, don’t you think?” She noticed however at the sound of Wilson’s name, Maxwell’s lips turned up into a small smirk, devoid of ill will, just a playful one, and that was all Wickerbottom needed. His eyes looked extraordinarily soft as he began brushing his hands off.

She decided to test the ground and lilted her voice, “So this is about Wilson?”

Maxwell crossed his arms over his chest and clicked his tongue, “He wanted to try out a hypothesis, and I only wish to help him out.” 

Interesting… quite the mysterious mess going on here, Wickerbottom thought. She sighed and sat on a log near the fire waiting for the stew to be done. “I hope you aren’t going to make a game out of bullying him, his sanity goes down quite quick, you know,” she scolded.

Maxwell quirked a brow, “I didn’t say anything about bullying. As I said, I’m just helping a pal out.” 

“You’re not planning to go about reaping souls and damning others to eternal hell again, are you?” she said with a grin, swinging her wooden ladle about as she spoke.

Maxwell matched her mischievous and facetious expression with his own, and he gave a large shrug. “You’ll just have to wait and see, huh?”

Wickerbottom gave a questioning glance to him before softening and giving him a shrug. Maybe he really was trying to bond with the others… even if it was in his own little suspicious way, and with one person, but it was at least a start. When she first saw him free from the throne, she was reasonably irate with him, but in the same vein, she was one of the first ones against kicking him out of their camp. Wickerbottom found him quickly to be an enjoyable conversationalist and surprisingly well-mannered (when he wanted to be) and, surprise surprise, useful. He was intelligent, but she felt it was buried under all of his bravado and gruff attitude. More than that, however, they were both wise, and it was their shared feelings on magic that brought them at a truce in the beginning. At this point in time, she might even consider him a friend. After all, he did confide in her, whether he would even admit to it or not. She looked over to Maxwell who was looking through the Codex Umbra on a log nearby. Wickerbottom stood up to check on the stew and, seeing as it was done, she again brought her attention to Maxwell.

“All right, dear soul-reaper, why don’t you tell everyone it’s time for dinner? And if you can try, please do attempt to drag Wilson out of his little work station. Being holed up in there won’t do him any good, and he has been in there all day.” 

Maxwell stood up, gave her a salute, and marched off. He heard Wickerbottom laughing behind him as he carried on. He quickly located Wendy, Webber, and Wes playing an intense game of charades. Webber was adamant he was winning, and Wendy said if Abigail had joined, the duo would have been unstoppable. Woodie was just coming in the main entrance with an armful of chopped logs and Wolfgang in tow carrying five men’s worth of wood, alongside Wigfrid who procured a bounty of meat. WX was in the garden with Winona, complaining about organics while conversing about upgrades, who were eagerly jumping to their feet with Maxwell’s dinner proclomation. All that was left was Wilson.

“Do you ever rest that little brain of yours?” Wilson flailed around for a bit when Maxwell spoke into his ear. 

Why does everyone do that?! “D-dammit Maxwell! Do you always have to announce your presence like that all the time!?” 

Maxwell leaned back a bit so the scientist could turn to face him, “You looked so thoroughly engrossed in your work, I was worried there was no possible way I could’ve gotten your attention otherwise,” He flicked his gaze to what Wilson was working on, to Wilsons face, “And it is quite fun to see your reactions. I am sure many others in the camp would agree.”

Wilson huffed, “Well, if anything, at least I’m dedicated to spending my time productively; by not playing pranks, might I add. And, if you were also so curious, I was making a saddle for the beefalos. I noticed the other ones we use aren’t as comfortable and they reject it sooner, so I was wondering if I could modify it to make it more comfortable for both rider and beefalo.” 

Maxwell made a face and muttered something about ‘stupid beasts’ before noticing the flute that was on its way to being finished on the other side of the work table. Completely forgetting what he even came to the scientist for, he became intrigued with it.

“I never thought of you as the musical type Higgsbury.”  
Wilson looked to the flute as well and smiled fondly, “Call it a guilty pleasure,” he shrugged, “But I actually do make them quite often! They’re mostly for the children, but I do know how to play it at least.”

“Stuck in that shack of yours I never saw any instruments like this. Here I almost thought you had no hobbies,” Maxwell sneered, but Wilson simply looked deep in thought.

He hummed for a moment, then said in a small voice, “I was taught how to play in school, but I guess it stuck with me. My grandmother got me one, then I taught myself at home. I guess learning the different chords and putting them together to make a song… is kind of like putting chemicals together to make the perfect formula in a concoction.”

Maxwell gave Wilson an odd look before he gave a thoughtful sigh, and he gazed somewhere behind the smaller man, “Before… I came to this world, I had a musical hobby myself.” Wilson was rapt with attention. “I played the guitar, but I’m not sure if I can play anymore, given it’s been a while, and, well...,” Maxwell showed his gloved, clawed hands, “These may get in the way.” 

Wilson looked at him in modest surprise, as this was one of the few times he had heard the past life of the enigma that was Maxwell. Hell, he didn’t even know his name wasn’t real until Wendy pointed out the similarities in her father’s and Maxwell's face. Maxwell had always felt a strange kinship with the little girl, but he could never quite place it. One day, she grew the courage— from some badgering on Abigail’s end— to interrogate the man on these coincidences. They eventually were able to confirm that he was Willam Carter, her uncle. No one had ever quite seen the man so emotional that day; Maxwell cursed the Constant and all of its deep evils, before offering sincere condolences to his niece(s). More victims of him. 

Wilson made sure to put the new information of Maxwell’s real name and his old life in his personal brain file, which was sadly filled with mostly cobwebs.

Wilson’s mouth moved on its own accord, “If I were to make a guitar, would you play it?” He didn’t expect Maxwell would even go for it, but upon seeing his slack-jawed face, Wilson quickly grinned.

“Would you?” Maxwell cleared his throat and glared at Wilson, before correcting his aloof status, “Suppose you did Higgsbury, and I played it, would it sound correct? Do you even know the first thing about guitars, or god forbid, tuning them?”

Wilson’s grin grew even wider, “Well, if you were to help me, that is give me some pointers, maybe we could make one? Who knows, maybe everyone would be charmed to see The Great Maxwell play for them?” 

Maxwell was at an absolute loss for words. Playing for people? Putting on a show? Christ, I hadn’t done that since… Maxwell gave a short chuckle then snorted, “‘The Great Maxwell’, huh? I’m sure they would be surprised to see me do something pleasant for once.” 

He laughed a bit, not noticing the stare of awe he got from Wilson. He had never heard that type of laughter before, genuine as much as it was light and airy.

“If it makes you feel better, maybe I could play the flute with you...?” Wilson hadn’t noticed the words he said, soft and mumbled, but Maxwell sure caught them and went silent. He cleared his throat, “Erm, w-well, I mean, um, th-that is to say—”

“A guitar and a flute? Ha! What a band that would be!”

...When had they gotten this close? Maxwell just now realized he was practically leaning over the scientist, who had his back to the desk, straining to stare up at him. Before Wilson could say anything, Wickerbottom walked in.

“Maxwell!” Maxwell immediately took a few quick steps backward from Wilson, “I said get Wilson out of his workstation to eat dinner, not chitchat! Come along now, else Wigfrid and Wolfgang will finish all the food!” The two nodded vigorously at their chastising. “Good, now come along.” 

While they walked out, Maxwell turned every so slightly and leaned down to Wilson’s ear in a hushed voice, “I think I might just take you up on that offer, pal.” 

With that, he immediately straightened and quickened his pace, and separated from him at the campfire. Wilson fell a bit behind, chewing on Maxwell’s words. He was confused, yet certainly pleased. 

Maybe I can get Maxwell to actually communicate with others by doing this, Wilson thought to himself. He would not have been able to foresee what he was getting himself into. No, not at all.


	4. “Nöw that is an unusual sight!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again thank my co author horizontalhorizon for helping me make these chapters come to life, without them I wouldn’t have the confidence in posting some of these chapters:))

“Nöw that is an unusual sight!” Wigfrid called out unabashedly.

Winona simply hummed and continued tinkering with the gears from a bishop and a rook they took down earlier that day. She’s already become accustomed to the method actress’ outbursts. 

“What is?” she asked coolly.

“Were Wilsön and Maxwell always that clöse?” 

This caught Winona's attention immediately and, whipping her head up in time, she saw Maxwell and Wilson talking while walking up to Wilson’s work tent, the taller gentleman even pulling up the flap and letting the amateur scientist enter first. 

What. Winona looked at Wigfrid and shared a look of ‘Did we seriously just see that?’. 

“Maxwell isn’t known to be kind unless he wants something,” said Winona.

Wigfrid nodded her head in agreement, “I dön’t trust it either, but it döesn’t löök like they were arguing?” 

Winona shook her head, “Well, whatever it is, I’m sure Wilson can handle himself. Besides, he’s dealt with him before.” 

“Who dealt with who before?”

Winona and Wigfrid looked over to see Wolfgang casually making his way over to them with a giant piece of ham in his hand, which he took a generous bite out of. Wigfrid began drooling at the sight of it.

Winona spoke up, “We were just talking about how Wilson and Maxwell have gotten quite buddy-buddy the past few days,” she finished with a shrug.

The burly man put on a heavy ruminating look with his hand brushing his mustache, “Tiny man talk to Tall man quite much, I see them doing chores together. Strange indeed.”  
He still had a strong accent, however due to Wickerbottom’s dutiful tutelage, his English was only getting better and better. Much to his surprise, but not too much given it’s her, she actually knew a bit of Russian. She always did seem to know a touch of everything. 

Meanwhile, Wigfrid had disappeared and ducked behind Wolfgang to hide in the  
grass nearby. She glared at his ham in hand like a predator on the hunt. 

“No need worry of little man, he is strong in... theory of mind, and um, potential in body! Ms. Wickerbottom said no worry, he is not to harm tiny man, he is friend.”  
Wolfgang went to take another grand bite of his ham, however instead took a chunk out of a log. He scratched the top of his head with a finger and mumbled to himself, “Not tasty...,” and with that he walked off to give the chewed log to Wickerbottom who was busy weaving. 

“Odd,” Winona said, crossing her arms. But, if Wickerbottom was okay with it, then she would be okay with it, if not a bit wary. She had grown fond of the little guy, and she was certainly not one to sit by and let bullies get their way. 

Wigfrid silently rejoined Winona with a new, large ham in hand and chewed happily. She’d thought it over, “Wickerböttöm can be as wise as Ödin at times, I trust her. But let's keep an eye ön öur little böffin, yöu knöw, just in case!'' 

They both nodded and Winona got back to work on tearing up the mechanical beasts for parts, while Wigfrid offered her some protein that Winona appreciatively denied.

Maxwell and Wilson were in the work tent looking over the blueprints of the guitar Wilson was cooking up. 

“No, no—look, that doesn't look right, you have to put the strings into a wooden block at the bottom— and here! The proportions are a bit wrong on the strings, each one is a different thickness.” 

Wilson nodded, examining the design and added notes to the side of the paper, then tapped the end of the quill to his chin for a moment before picking himself up in a hurry, “Oh! I was thinking that the steel wool we can get from the ewecus can be unravelled and straightened into the strings!” 

Maxwell hummed in agreement and couldn’t help but think, Well... this... is... oddly nice, watching as Wilson was talking about all of these different ideas and plans of this thingamajig to combine with that whatchamacallit, with such vigor and energy too! It was well and truly endearing to be watching this in person rather than from the throne. He enjoyed watching Wilson survive, as it was quite funny. Wilson just had to comment on everything, and get into everything, much like the curiosity of the children. 

He had really felt sorry for Wilson to take over the throne. The last thought he had before he turned to dust was, ‘Better him than me’, which he admonished himself often for. So selfish. The irony was that Maxwell was to be brought right back to him only days later. He would have believed it was fate, but in a place like this, there wasn’t really any mistake. There’s always a puppet master, always someone stronger with an ulterior motive. After all, the slap fight they had when they first saw each other outside of the throne room probably gave the shadows something to laugh about.

“—Um, Maxwell, did you hear my other suggestion?” 

Maxwell was startled right out of his thoughts, jumping up, and, forgetting there was a lantern hanging just above his head, banged right into it. Thunk! He sucked in a breath between teeth then released a low hiss as he pushed the lantern out of the way, glaring as if it personally offended him, which it did I might add. He heard loud boyish laughter and looked down to see Wilson practically dying on the ground. 

“AAAAHAHAHA! O—” Wilson paused a moment to lower his volume to some giggles, “Oh my god, hahahah!” 

“Find something funny, PAL?” Maxwell hissed at the shorter man, who was still laughing hard, flushed and eyes pricked with tears.

“I—HAHAHAH!—I’m sorry, but that, that was too funny!” Wilson was wiping at his eyes and sighing happily.

Maxwell then sneered, “Ha ha ha, laugh it up now, but I have seen much more embarrassing things from you on the throne, you realize? What about that incident with the honey? Ripped out a few hairs, didn’t it?” He began chuckling to himself a tad maniacally.

That shut Wilson up real quick as he gaped like a fish and became just as red as the salmon in the salt ponds. 

“Y-you! Good heavens, you saw THAT!?” Wilson buried his face in his hands, “Th-that was one time...and it was an accident!” He rubbed at his cheeks, moaning in excruciating embarrassment. “Aw, you horrific little—god...”

Maxwell smirked, “Look, pal, honey isn’t the substitute for lube here. There are better options,” he said, resting a hand on his hip. 

Wilson looked positively mortified, “Did you just spend all of your time spying on us? Well, I hope you got a good look—”, then curious the next second, “Wait, b-better options? What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I meant, Higgsbury. Would you like a few tips?” Maxwell held a mischievous grin, however, internally he was actually quite nervous. He hasn’t ever been so curt in such a statement to Wilson, even if meant facetiously (Kind of). And to drive it, Wilson looked at him skeptically. But, then to Maxwell’s surprise, there then came a look of genuine but tame consideration as he eyed the taller man up, then down, then up again.

“How old are you?” 

...Ow, Maxwell thought. However, there was no bite to Wilson’s question, and it was calm and inquisitive. And, well, to be fair he did look... A bit old. He was around 50 when he came to this world, and that certainly wasn’t that old (it certainly was).

“I am fifty, Higgsbury, not a hundred, despite how many years go by,” he decided to try to adjust the tone of conversation off his age, “We will never age here. I have much evidence however that says time continues its way without us outside of this hellscape.” 

Higgsbury considered this for a moment, then turned back to his work shaking his head. “All right, Maxy, but don’t think I will forget about your little lamp incident,” he coughed to clear his throat, “So... erm, what type of wood should we use?”

Maxwell had a nervous habit of adjusting his coat when he was taken aback. That look Wilson gave him, as if he were being seen in an entirely new light, but then completely tossed aside. He shook his head. It was better than going back to the topic of his age.

“Hm. I was thinking of perhaps birchnut? It is softer and easier to bend and carve,” said Maxwell as he took his place behind Higgsbury, where he couldn’t see the little man gain a little smirk.

“Softer and easier to bend, huh?” Wilson said, turning up and snickering at him.

Maxwell scowled, “I do hope you are talking about the tree wood, Higgsbury.”

Wilson let out another laugh at Maxwell's expense, but the latter was actually very relieved their provocative bantering was taking off more and more. With that, there were no more awkward voids in the remainder of their night, an evening that was happily filled with large amounts of arguing and laughing alike.


	5. “It’s late”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT ;-;

“It’s late”  
“Hm?” Wilson looked at Maxwell and then up to the sky,” I suppose so, should we start heading back?” 

This was the second week in a row they had been working on their little guitar project and today they decided, was a good day to chop down some birchwood trees as well as their usual Pine trees.

“ Well I checked the moon dial, it’s going to be a full moon so we could take our time, after all they have enough logs back at camp” Wilson hummed again and started tidying up, collecting logs and putting them in chester, when he heard the most peculiar sound. He turned back to see Maxwell dismissing his clones elegantly with his shadow sword and..humming? It sounded familiar too. Maxwell turned to see Wilson looking at him oddly, quirking a brow he asked,” What?” To which Wilson shook his head,” No nothing, I just thought I have never heard you hum, or sing for that matter, I was just intrigued”

Shifting the bag over his shoulders he added,” What is the song called? I think I might have heard it somewhere” Maxwell sighed and took out a cigar, something he had done less and less often, maybe it was due to the kids?” AH that tune, well I was actually surprised myself, it’s the one the damn gramophone played, albeit a bit altered”

“Well I like your version better, your voice isn’t so bad, or well in my opinion I suppose it isn’t bad” Maybe it was the sun going down, or it was going to be the full moon, but Maxwell was fairly relaxed and felt like he didn’t have to worry much,” You should be happy I graced you with such a singing voice Higgsbury, this might be one of the last times you might hear it” Maxwell said in a self centered, yet bored tone.

” Well it wasn’t really singing, maybe we can make up some lyrics? I’ll start”, and with that he cleared his throat and walked in front of Maxwell, facing him while walking backwards,” Im here in the moonlight, nothing but my backpackkk ,and my (dog?) chesterrrr, and an old-!”

“ -odd little man, who can’t seem to shut up, and I am here goin crazy in the moonlight, I know for a fact I won’t die tonight, with this man, as bait by my side-” 

“Hey!” Maxell practically grabbed the short man's hand and started dancing, 

“-This tall wolf won’t let me go, and I might just hit him,” 

“Say Pal that wasn’t nice” still dancing and ‘accidentally’ stepped on Wilson's foot on purpose, which earned him a harder step on his own foot ( For his stature he really packs a punch), 

“Well I don't suppose what you said was any nicer” Wilson frowned before he realized the how close they were, and basically holding hands. He looked up and saw Maxwell was staring right back at him with a smirk, squeezing his hands a bit tighter, when did the moon get so high in the sky?” Maxwell” 

“Hm?”

“Why are we holding hands?” 

“ Because I can’t reach down and hold your waist”,Wilson searched Maxwell's face and leaned in just a bit, well for Maxwell's age he sure did look quite good, maybe it was because of the constant? Maxwell looked like he was leaning closer?-” Well I have to say we gotta get back to camp, I’m quite famished, how about you?” Wilson looked dumbfounded as Maxwell let him go and smirked when he walked ahead and Wilson wasn't following,”That was a nice little practice for the real thing huh?” Wilson blinked “What?” “Playing together, remember? Come along” Maxwell turned back with a slight glide in his step, and Wilson, well he was very much confused, but nonetheless followed, “Yeah…”


	6. “That’s not right..”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) I will post 1 more

“That’s not right..” 

Wilson was using clamps he made out of the Skitter Squid's jaw, it was a prototype but at least it got the job done. Wilson looked at the sky and saw it was already dusk, he had cut the birch wood, bent it to shapes needed for half the guitar, and used the mucus from the ewecus to glue the pieces together as well as the clamp.

He wiped his brow at the day's work and sat down in a stool, Maxwell wouldn’t be back until later that night, he had gone out to the rock quarry to get more moon rocks and gold for some new experiments with the jewels on the shadow manipulator. 

Maxwell, well he was certainly an enigma these days wasn’t he? From actually agreeing to this project, to even helping him gather materials for it. They had gotten closer he can tell, but really it wasn’t anything new, they both were close since the very beginning… it’s just that being dragged into hell by your newfound friend without any explanation really destroys relationships you know? 

They had talked quite a bit back in the other world, before the mess, Wilson thought he actually had gone insane and was having Auditory Hallucinations and developing Schizophrenia. But of course Maxwell convinced him otherwise,although it was nice to think in those first few days his own mind was helping him “gain knowledge”, but then again it was fun having something like a friend, or that’s what he called it.

Oftentimes Wilson would talk and talk and talk, and Maxwell would respond where it was needed, but really listened, or seemed to, and it made Wilson feel special in a way. Even now, when their relationship is getting better and the communication is helping mend the bridges, but he can’t help feel there is more to it, something hidden in the way Maxwell talks now, well if he was honest it always was there, the flirting. 

At first he thought he was mistaking it for playful friendly banter back in his old shack (he didn’t have much interaction with people in quite a few years since moving to that shack, he wasn’t the social type either when he was with family to boot)and when he was alone on his way to the throne, but now with people he can tell the difference. When talking to willow it seemed like they were siblings with the banters they had, Wickerbottom was like his nanny he remembered from his childhood days, strict but kind and had a motherly voice at times,Woodie kept to himself and his axe, yet cracked a few good jokes when he could. The children were playful (especially Webber, the prank with the spider got him in big trouble a month back)and talked about things a kid would like how they asked many many questions about the same thing ( but he had a soft spot for Webber so he answered them happily)., Wendy more on the dark humor side, Wes was … well Wes, WX only came to him when Winona wasn’t around to do asking for repairs or he had food and complaining about organic life. Wigfrid was always loud but fun and told stories, Wolfgang told stories with what English he had and was a nice guy to talk with, but Max was different. 

Between the scowling, teasing, and making snarky remarks, Maxwell would slip in a few innuendos and winks when no one was looking and go back to being the old grouch he is when everyone is around. He at first was quite angry with Maxwell, but after realizing he had basically the same story as him coming here, well he couldn’t help but forgive eventually.

A secret part of him was happy only he got to see this side but lately it’s been an even bigger part of him since he asked that question, ‘what if there was intercourse between said animals, what would happen then?’ REALLY it was purely scientific, and it had been nagging him, but the way Maxwell acted after….. he may have given him a push?

The scientist had never had sex before, he was a very dedicated and devoted man, he was married to science, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know social cues, his family forced him to go to family gatherings and he was put into band for a bit in school since his parents wanted to push him to have other hobbies than science (But if their son was going to become a scientist or doctor they had no qualms). 

Enough of the past, the real question in the present was

“How am I going to continue making this guitar?” 

He flinched when he heard something snap, looking over he spotted the clamp split into and flug across the room while the two wooden parts he was glueing together were cracked and split “*Sighhhh*”, this was gonna take a while.


	7. “How do we fix this??”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the last one uwu

“How do we fix this??”

Wilson was busy trying to make the pieces go together perfectly. Ever since the first try he had gone through 3 more ‘Prototypes’ but this time Maxwell was there to offer his ‘assistance’

, “Maybe we can use my shadow clones? They are strong and will sit still for hours on end” Wilson pondered this, but shook his head

“I don’t know…. By doing this project I was also figuring out how to make it effective in future projects like this, and we can’t always use your clones, it damages your sanity”

He did have a fair point.

“ I suppose so, but for now, why don’t we just use the clones, I’m here already, next time we can figure out how to make more effective clamps” 

Point Maxwell, he won this round,”Fine.” Wilson huffed and got the pieces ready and the snot ready to glue the wooden parts as Maxwell conjured up a few normal clones. The clones took over and collected the wooden pieces, looking at Wilson as he came in and put blue between the parts, 

“There that should do it!” Wilson looked quite proud and happy, it looked stable, now for the wait. 

Maxwell stared at Wilson through his multiple viewpoints, He was sitting across from Wilson who was standing and sketching up some further ideas if this worked, The clones were behind him holding the pieces together. He just got an idea, Summoning a third clone unseen by Wilson he made it walk right up behind him and just stand there, while he took out his book and began ‘reading’. 

“Oh, it’s a-its a little chilly” Wilson rubbed his free arm against the one that was writing 

“Is it now? I didn’t notice” Wilson looked up and squinted at Maxwell, he felt like...he was being watched, well Maxwell probably was watching him with the clones he had behind him

“Do you think winter is coming soon?” He swore he felt a presence behind him. Maxwell pondered the question while staring down at his book, looking through the shadows' gaze and spotted the goose flesh on the back of Wilson's neck

, “ well maybe if you feel jack frost nipping at you that might be the case” He stated as he had a shadowy hand reach out to touch the back of Wilson’s neck, looking up he saw Wilson’s mouth open to question him, but all that came out was a sharp gasp as the cold fingers made contact with his neck. 

Whipping back Wilson saw the clones chest, then looked up

“ You know for being faceless your clones give off the same asshole energy as you”  
He said while scowling at the clone, then scowling even further at the man in front of him 

“ Now higgsbury it’s just fun and games, no need to be mean, besides, I just wanted to see if you looked good in all angles” Maxwell said as he walked closer until he was face to face with the smaller man

“And I am glad to say you do” The clone behind Wilson pressed against him and put to hands on either side of the wooden table by his hips

“ Wh-what?”. 

Maxwell smirked and took Wilsons chin between his thumb and pointer finger, then looked past him  
“ Oh right! The glue is done drying, why don’t we have a look and see if there are any imperfections with this test?” and with that he let his chin go and the shadow clone behind Wilson backed off but not before running their fingers a bit through his hair.

“ Ok…” he took a moment to catch his breath, turning around to face Maxwell and his shadowy minions (He really doesn't trust them at this point)

“Looks like a success! Now we can work on the neck and frets” Maxwell said while inspecting the body with one hand and dismissing the clones with the other. That day there were many successes, as well as many realizations, Wilson figured out clones were too much like their master even if they were puppets… and he didn’t mind that at all.


	8. “I’m not sure…”

“I’m not sure…” 

Currently Webber , the sweet child, was trying to coax Wilson into hanging out with them and the spiders since Webber helped in the collection of silk and other things for Wilson, not that it mattered, he would still go to amuse the child. 

They were currently walking in the forest a little ways from the camp with monster meat they got from the wave of hounds that were killed by the catapults made by Winona (Bless that woman) therefore on the way to give the army of spiders a peace offering. 

“So how many new friends have you made?”

“Um about, 4-5?, these ones are easier to get along with, and their queen is quite kind as well, lets me sleep in the nest with the others”

Wilson nodded and smiled, they did have a thing for making many friends with whoever they came across (Except the pigs, mer’s,-) and had a knack for making everyone laugh, even Maxwell which was surprising.  
They arrived at the nest and Wilson sat down in the shade of a tree close to the nest to see everything clear, but not close enough to alert or startle anything near it.

“I will bring my favorite friend over Mr. Wilson!!” and with that Webber was off running to the nest petting the spiders and feeding them.

Wilson took this time to close his eyes for a bit, it was still day so the many bad things were at bay, for now at least, Wilson heard rustling, he opened his eyes and looked over to see a spider with a…. hat? A bit of a poorly made hat at that. Grabbing his spear in one hand he stared at the spider and tilted his head, He didn’t want to hurt any of the spiders in front of Webber since he knew the spider child would be upset after. The spider just stared at him and then sat in the shade near Wilson, about 2 feet away “There you are!” The child exclaimed happily from the nest as he started to run over

“I am so glad you didn’t get hurt by any of the hounds the other day, do you want some meat??” Webber held out his hand and the spider ate it in a few bites

“I named him Red” Wilson looked curiously at the spider ‘why didn’t it attack me?’

“why did you name him that?” The spider child took off its hat and pointed at the red stripe on its head ‘odd’ he thought “Is that the color of his fur? Was it always like that??” Webber nodded and picked up the spider, It didn’t make a fuss at all, even he was put into Wilson's lap

“Don’t worry, he is super friendly… I actually want to bring him with us into the camp, that’s why I brought you here! To back me up and see how nice he is” They smiled a toothy grin and Wilson couldn’t help but do the same, knowing the tendencies of the spiders he always wondered if Webber felt the need to be in groups like them as well, and that’s why he makes so many friends to hang around. He looked down at the spider 

“I don’t know..” He raised a hand to pet the spider and it let him, even leaning into the touch looking up at him with its beady eyes 

“ Did you teach it to make puppy eyes???” Webber laughed and kneeled near the spider and gave the same, cute, beady eyes, Wilson groaned

“ Come on Webber….. ok fine we let him stay 1 day, and see how everyone thinks of him, ok? “ Webber did a little happy dance and Wilson laughed “Alright alright, it’s time to go, it’s getting dark so say goodbye to your other spider friends. As Webber went off to say goodbye to the spiders Wilson stood up and put the spider down expecting it to walk back to the others, but it didn’t. 

“I think it likes you Higgsbury” 

Wilson jumped back and saw Maxwell leaning against the tree behind him then regaining his composure as if nothing happened “Um, first off stop that, second off, why do you think so?” 

Maxwell looked amused at Wilson before turning his gaze towards the odd looking spider “ When I created these spiders I originally had many variations, like the spiders in the other world, this one just happened to be red, they often like red things which is why I scrapped them since, well you're wearing red” 

Maxwell gestured to him, “But I suppose Charlie took my scrapped ideas and made them a reality, maybe to make us fall into a false sense of security, the spiders aren’t supposed to be this nice….” 

Maxwell trailed off as the spider started to crawl over to Wilson and Crawl up him basically,” W-WhAt is it doing-“

Maxwell started to chuckle “He might be a little too nice to you, maybe he thinks you’re a mate, can’t blame him” The spider basically settled in Wilson’s hair and wheezed a sigh “ You should feel honored, Females are larger than males, so in his eyes you're large female, guess you have to take what you can get Pal” Wilson flushed red in anger and embarrassment at his remarks about his height and calling him the other gender (not that he had anything against them) 

“Well I’ll have you know!-”  
“Mr.Wilson I’m done saying goodbye! Oh hi Mr.Maxwell!” Wilson cut himself off and turned to Webber “ Oh red likes you, maybe it’s because you're wearing red “ Wilson smiled and kneeled down so Webber can get the spider “ Come on red, we have to get to camp and you might bother Mr.Wilson!” 

The child kept trying to pry the spider out of Wilson’s hair hissing and eventually Wilson sighed “It’s ok I’ll just have him in there until we get to camp, he won’t bother me” Maxwell snorted, looking to the side and Webber smiled in hope 'if Mr.Wilson likes him, maybe everyone will too!' “ Ok?!” Webber said and ran ahead of Max and Wilson towards camp. 

At camp there was a mix of reactions.


	9. “Lets try a different approach”

“Lets try a different approach”

Maxwell looked up from the partially put together guitar “What do you mean?”

“We might have to look for a different wood for the neck part of the guitar” Wilson said with a sigh, taking his hands off the wooden piece that was crudely clamped to the rest of the ‘guitar’.  
Maxwell thought for a moment looking down at the neck of the guitar, then up again at Wilson,

“ I have to agree, The Birchwood keeps breaking and bending oddly” He looked down to the side where the pile of failed attempts was cluttered near the work desk,  
hearing rustling he looks back up, er, well slightly higher at Wilson who was currently putting on a backpack,

“where are you going with that pal?” 

“Well since the camp was already low on firewood, well wood in general, and I thought we could grab some for the project as well” Maxwell raised a brow.

“ I suppose I will go” Max conjured up some shadow clones and smirked when he saw Wilson flush a bit out of the corner of his eye, then slipped out of the tent, waiting a bit for Wilson to follow before they began their trek, telling Wickerbottom who was currently planting where they were of to.

Things have been good at the camp so far, not as much chaos since they were pretty stockpiled on everything since winter is coming, however there is the occasional screaming from Wolfgang's tent. It may have been a mistake to put Webber’s tent near his since their new addition is basically a giant spider, but the man was less likely to get angry or kill it due to his soft nature towards kids, you win some you lose some in this case sleep. 

“Say how is everyone holding up with the new ah ‘addition’ to this little group?” Wilson looked up at Maxwell and looked confused at this question  
“I thought you would have seen everything, since you’re always sneaking about” Snorting Max answered

“Well I have my own agenda too, I’m not sure if you noticed but I haven't exactly been around lately, I had to restock on nightmare fuel” He pointed with a thumb at where the clones where following behind him

“I have always wondered, how sentient are they??” Looking a bit closer at the clones he squinted 

“Sentient enough to run at the first sight of danger, unless told to fight” Maxwell looked at their surroundings and noticed they still had sometime before they got to the evergreen forest

“Say doll, you really wanna know how sentient they are?” Wilson knew what pet names meant, and he wasn’t sure what was going to happen this time

“ Um, sure”, well it wasn’t like he was going to pass up the chance to study the shadowy companions Maxwell has, it's nothing he can't handle (That's what he thought anyway). Maxwell smirked

“Well I'm sure you have questions, ask away, and ah, feel free to touch” Not knowing what Maxwell was getting at, he side eyed him before looking at the clones  
“ Can they feel what you feel?” 

“Yes” 

“can you make them do whatever you want? Like make them chop trees and mine, etc.?”

“Yes, and no, I can assign them to do specific things, however they can only do that specific job” Wilson thought about that for a while

“So when you fight you can't make them fight?” 

“No I have to make more, the ones I already have just run away, but they are always around” Maxwell pointed at the two clones behind him and stated,

“Like shadows”

“ Can you give them things??” Maxwell thought about it, then looked at one of clones, Wilson watched as the clone nodded and walked off somewhere nearby picked a pale purple flower from the ground, then ran over to Wilson, stopping him in his tracks by standing in front of him, and grabbed his hand,

“What is it-” Before he could finish his sentence the clone gently placed the flower in his palm then wrapped its own shadowy hands over his own and squeezed slightly leaning in and bumping his its head against Wilsons 

“Max- what is it doing?” Wilson said flushing, yet slightly disturbed at the dark mass looming over him

“ah it must think you deserve a flower doll, for all the hard work- look at that we are already at the forest” Wilson watched as the clone leaned away to join its puppet master to get an axe to start chopping.  
Looking down at the small light purple flower in his hands a thought echoed in his head  
“can you make them do whatever you want? Like make them chop trees and mine, etc.?”

“Yes”

He kept staring at the flower, even as he carefully placed it in his pocket  
And when he looked up, Max was looking at him slightly, and gave him a small smirk but turned away to instruct the clones to chop another set of trees for they were done with the ones in Max’s line of vision.  
With a small smile Wilson looked away and started to gather logs, giving some to the clone who wasn't doing anything pointing it to gather more, and surprisingly it followed his directions. When the lone was starting to pick up many logs Wilson decided to gather logs too, and chop down some trees as well, keeping an eye out for tree guards that might pop up.

Wilson’s smile grew as he chopped away at the trees, occasionally looking back at Max and thought to himself, maybe, just maybe he was finally meeting the person Max was, even if it was through the literal shadow of his.


End file.
